Bittersweet Expectations (Hate at First Flight #0.5)

8. Falling Under the Spell

After cleaning, I sat down on one of the armchairs and tried to rest for a bit. Sweat coated my skin and I a cool glass of water sounded so good right about then, but I couldn't bring myself to get up for it.

Five minutes later, I make my way to the door with the mind of starting on my other tasks, not to mention the laundry that by now must've finished spinning by now.

I could hear something fall and break in the direction of the living room quickly followed by another loud shatter. Stopping just by the door, I hold my breath, wondering what was happening.

Another loud shatter followed before I heard a loud swear erupt from the direction of the living room. I could make out Ethan's voice.

Against my better judgement, I run out of the library and into the direction of the living room.

Nothing seemed to be amiss until I spotted shattered glass and the large vase with the flowers that I'd just watered two hours ago.

Ethan was standing by the table that the glass was previously on, the contents had also joined the broken vase. He didn't notice me standing there, he hadn't even noticed me entering the room.

He was too busy staring at the flat-screen TV where a makeup commercial was currently playing. I recognized the model on the screen.

A gorgeous blonde with deep blue eyes that was on almost every single advertisement or billboard out there. She had soon become a familiar face in the short time I'd been in New York.

Laurel Richards.

I was about to reprimand Ethan about making a mess when I noticed that his hand was bleeding and that he'd somehow cut himself when he'd went crazy on the vase.

I ran to get the first aid kit where I'd seen it earlier and grabbed a wet towel from the bathroom before I went back to Ethan Clarke.

"Mr Clarke," I said when I get to him.

He didn't faze at all. His eyes were still on the screen where the commercial was nearing it's end.

"Mr Clarke," I said again and when he still didn't reply I tried to get him to sit down on the chair beside him.

Surprisingly he was lenient and took a sit. But his attention was still lost away from me.

I kneel on the ground next to the chair and tried to hurry up. "Keep still, Mr Clarke. I need to disinfect the clean the wound," I said before I pressed the wet towel against it to stop the bleeding and started digging in the first aid kit for the disinfectant. As soon as I find it, I pull it out and start look for the bandages and cream.

"Mr Clarke," I tried to draw his attention away from the screen again. Another commercial was playing this time. "Mr Clarke." When he still didn't answer, I continued, "This might hurt a bit," I said just as I applied the disinfectant onto a cotton wool to apply.

But before I could apply it to the wound, a hand firmly tightens around my wrist and holds it still, holding it in place.

I freeze for a moment before I move my eyes away from the disinfectant in my hand and onto the terror staring back at me.

If he hadn't been holding onto my hand tightly, I would've been too taken aback by his gaze that I would've flown back.

Ethan Clarke's gaze was burning into me as if I was a worthless little leech that was sucking the blood out of him. If looks could kill, I would've already been six feet under, in a grave I dug myself.

"What in the hell do you think you are doing?" his voice was so icy it could freeze hell over. His face was devoid of expression, his eyes were what gave me the idea that I had just literally woken up a sleeping dragon.

I tried to tug my wrist out of his grip but failed to do so, all it earned was his fingers tightening themselves around it. "You're bleeding and I-"

"You what? Thought this was your chance to win me over? Thought you could impress me with your feigned worry and get me falling for me so you could live the life?" His neutral face broke and a look of dark humour crossed his face as he chuckled darkly.

Shocked at his accusations, I tried to pull away from him. I didn't want to be anywhere near someone as egotistic and arrogant as he was.

Fortunately his grip had somewhat loosened and broke.

"What?" He broke the silence that had settled in after I took several steps away from him. "Don't you need to be closer to me for me to fall under you spell."

I crossed my arms across my chest defensively. "For your information, I suck at acting, therefore I can't even begin to feign worry. I was trying to disinfect your wounds because you were bleeding everywhere."

"I don't recall that being in your job description, Ms Bishop!" He snapped, his voice back to its former iciness. "All you need to do is clean up, then leave. Nothing else!"

I laughed dryly at him, "I was going about doing that until I heard you basically dismantle everything I'd just done. What was I supposed to do when I walked in here and saw that you'd destroyed the living room and was standing there bleeding, staring at the goddamn flat-screen, pining over some model that-"

Something flew past me. I turned in time just to see it hit the wall.

I turned back around, anger flooding through me at the near miss. "What the hell is wr-"

"Get out!" Ethan's voice thundered through the house as he got up from his chair. "GET OUT NOW!"

"What are you doing?" I took a step back as a reflex, staring at him. He looked too pissed off for me to deal with right now.

"Get out of my house now, and don't come back!"

"But I still haven't-"

"Just get out!" His expression disappated any disagreement in me and I rushed out of there as if the devil himself was chasing after me.